


In This Harbor of a Room, You'll Find Your Anchor Soon

by pennysparkle



Category: Persona 4
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Unexpected Visitors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-01
Updated: 2015-10-01
Packaged: 2018-04-24 07:58:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4911607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pennysparkle/pseuds/pennysparkle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Souji's having difficulty getting used to it. Sure, he'd technically come home at the end of the school year—but during summer break, he'd managed to squirrel in a vacation, three long weeks of Inaba's hot weather settling in his bones along with the feeling of being home after some awkward interlude where he'd been inhabiting his parent's house. The days had been pleasantly long and full of swimming and sunning on the beach or lazing by the Samegawa with his friends, and it had been perfect.</p><p>Of course, he'd gotten a lot of time with Kanji, too, laying in his futon with the fan blowing on high, Kanji hot over top of him, their lips pressing feverishly together as they tried to make the utter most of the time they had together before the uncertain future of the next semester arrived.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In This Harbor of a Room, You'll Find Your Anchor Soon

**Author's Note:**

> A continuation of ["Didn't I Take You to Higher Places?"](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4424300) dealing with the long-distance aspects of Souji and Kanji's relationship.

The house is silent and dark but for a single light on over the kitchen sink, and each surface gleams underneath, counters scrubbed down and canisters washed, nonexistent crumbs dusted away, floors swept and mopped, garbage taken out. The cleaning people have been here, and as always, they've left the house looking as though it's never been lived in at all—which isn't so much of a stretch, actually.

Souji's having difficulty getting used to it. Sure, he'd  _technically_ come home at the end of the school year—but during summer break, he'd managed to squirrel in a vacation, three long weeks of Inaba's hot weather settling in his bones along with the feeling of being  _home_ after some awkward interlude where he'd been inhabiting his parent's house. The days had been pleasantly long and full of swimming and sunning on the beach or lazing by the Samegawa with his friends, and it had been perfect.

Of course, he'd gotten a lot of time with Kanji, too, laying in his futon with the fan blowing on high, Kanji hot over top of him, their lips pressing feverishly together as they tried to make the utter most of the time they had together before the uncertain future of the next semester arrived.

In truth, three weeks hadn't felt like nearly enough, but it was better than nothing, and without school to get in the way, there had been hour upon hour of time with his friends. Some nights, he didn't even make it back to the Dojima residence, the entire Investigation Team sprawled out in rooms at the Amagi Inn, exhausted and overheated. He thinks back on it now and no matter how ordinary it had seemed at the time, he cherishes it.

But a month has passed now in which Souji has been alone here. He's only seen his parents once since he came back to Tokyo for good, and even then, it had been a pitstop between one business trip and the next, their presence in his life as momentary as ever.  _That's_ what it means by a house that's never been lived in: because most months out of the year, they hire a caretaker while they're gone, and for the short moments where the tiny, three-person Seta "family" lives there, it never quite feels like home.

At least not to Souji. His memories here are nothing interesting. Like every other place and thing in his life, this house is a fleeting distraction that he won't exist in long enough to become comfortable.

So even with the knowledge that his parents will come back  _sometime_  (for a short stay in which they're bound to mostly ignore him), it's not so much something he looks forward to. And maybe some people would be excited to have the house to themselves, but for him, this is the reality. After Inaba, it feels grating and wrong. It feels lonely—even with the knowledge that his parents will be here, Souji feels  _alone_.

He pauses by the doorway, lost in thought, though there's not much to think about here. Everything is a habit: wake up, take a shower, go to school, go to clubs, come home, do homework, sleep, repeat. Sometimes he'll break things up by going to the store or taking a walk in the park, but more often than not, it doesn't help distract him: not when there's kids in the prime of their high school life, laughing and joking the way he did with his friends. And they're not here.

These days, he doesn't get up to a lot of what he did in Inaba. There's no side jobs, no great amount of relationships to balance,  _certainly_ no murderers to catch. He doesn't even make dinner for himself most days; there's no use in cooking if it's only going to be him eating it. Granted, he  _does_ have a couple storebought bento in the fridge, but he's not particularly hungry at the moment.

The thing he'd forgotten about living in Tokyo during his year in Inaba is that the days feel so long and lonely that he's wiped out by the end—and it's not a pleasant tiredness, like the one he felt all of last year, the tiredness of a day well-spent. He feels flat-out exhausted as he steps into his bedroom, yawning and wondering if he really wants to stay up long enough to finish his homework. On the one hand, it'd mean he wouldn't have to wake up early tomorrow, and on the other...

His phone starts beeping and buzzing in his bag, and he jumps to grab it, an uncharacteristic excitement considering his prior lethargy. He knows that it's probably going to be Kanji. But even that knowledge doesn't stop his heart from leaping happily in his chest when such a suspicion is confirmed. He flips the phone open, nearly fumbling it in his haste, and smacks himself in the ear when he pushes it up too quickly.

"Hi," he breathes out. This is the best part of his day, of his  _week_ , because he always feels somehow off on the majority of days, when all they get to exchange are texts and emails. Hearing his voice is better.

"Hey. You sound out of breath, senpai. Is now a bad time?"

Even though Kanji can't see him, Souji shakes his head. "No! I just got back from school."

There's a pause, and then Kanji's voice, sounding confused and a little bit concerned. "... Right now? It's nearly eight."

Souji pulls the phone away from his ear and glances at the time. Is it really that late? He hadn't noticed.

"I had cleaning duty and home ec today." He'd chosen that as one of his clubs on Kanji's recommendation, and honestly, it's pretty fun. He's even managed to knit a halfway-decent cat that he intends to mail to him when he's finished with it. Maybe it's symbolic; a tiger for Kanji, and a cat for Souji, and they belong together, sitting on Kanji's dresser. The idea seems cute enough.

"Yeah? How was it?"

"It was fine," Souji says as he pulls homework out of his bag. It's his last year of high school, and the workload is so heavy that even he's struggling with it. Still, it keeps him busy, stops him from thinking about how much he misses everyone for the entire day, so in a way, he's glad for it.

He's made a few friends at school—no one as close as the Investigation Team had been—but it makes their absence all the more noticeable. It's not to say that these new friends aren't nice, because they  _are._ There's Nanami from home ec, who's  _way_  better than him at knitting, but always needs a little help with the cooking portions; Akira, one of his archery teammates, who reminds him a lot of Chie at times, and who's always anxious to join him at lunch on the days he brings homemade bento; Hiroki, a classmate that studies a lot, who'd had the courage to ask to join Souji in the library one day, and since then, they've been impromptu study buddies that occasionally go out for ramen afterward.

There are a few others that come and go, mostly friendly acquaintances. But he finds that he's not so scared of this fact anymore—casual friends are fine with him, because he's got everyone back at home in Inaba, and those are his  _best_ friends. The ones that are most important. The ones he  _needs_.

Things are working out so much differently than he'd expected them to. Sure, a part of himself had been terrified that they'd drop him, but they hadn't. In fact, they seem to like him as much as ever, even though he's not there. Most of the times, he feels secure in that fact.

And despite his parents' complaining, he's made up his mind about school. They've been pushing for him to go to Tokyo University and major in business, but he fully intends to move closer to Inaba once he graduates at the end of this year. There's a veterinary school in Okina; he's been thinking about asking Dojima if he could stay with him again for a little while and attend that. Maybe he and Kanji could get an apartment together at some point...

But that's thinking  _really_ far ahead. Granted, he and Kanji have been together over six months now (and by some kind of divine intervention, they'd managed to celebrate that milestone together during summer break at a restaurant in Okina). It's been hard, but Souji's trying to keep it together, to retain the hope that things might work out for them after all.

"So you're doin' okay?" Kanji asks. He  _always_ asks this, and while Souji appreciates it, he continues to feel a little bit embarrassed by his answer.

"I am... but I miss you."

"I miss you too, senpai," says Kanji. Souji can hear shuffling in the background, like sheets crinkling over the receiver, and then settling again.

"... Is everyone else doing okay?"

He texts with Yosuke every day, talks on the phone with him sometimes, and video calls him once a week—about the same amount of time as he spends with Kanji, if a little bit less. The others, he doesn't talk to  _every_ day, but it's close. Enough that he finds himself worrying less and less that they're going to forget about him. Still, that doesn't mean he can be there to actually confirm for himself that they're doing as well as they say they are, so he has to ask.

"They're fine," Kanji says. He yawns, but keeps talking through it. "We all went and had Aiya last night. Like old times."

 _Like old times_. This is the part that bothers him. Because he's here in Tokyo, and they're all down in Inaba, and he's left out. It's not their fault, of course. They can't help it that he'd had to come home—they'd begged him not to, had asked him if there was any way he could stay, and he'd tried. He'd wanted to try so badly, because if the  _thought_ of parting with them had been bad, the reality of it had been much worse.

He remembers them huddling around him, enfolding him in a long group hug as he waited numbly for the train to arrive, and a few minutes later, in secret, Kanji holding him in the shadowed cover at the side of the station. He'd been trembling with fear, terrified that Kanji would whisper to him that he couldn't do this after all, couldn't let go and pretend he was alright with the distance. It might have been a relief for Souji if he had, but it wouldn't have felt good.

Instead, he'd just told Souji that he loved him, squeezed him tightly in his arms, leaned down and gave him one good, long kiss, enough that Souji thought he would feel the imprint of him all day. And he'd remembered that hug on the train home, the way Kanji had just a couple inches on him, enough to surround him. It had been comforting.

He hasn't felt the simple touch of Kanji for a month now, and it hurts just as badly as he'd assumed it would.

"I'm glad... it makes me happy that you guys still hang out," he forces himself to confess after a couple moments of silence. He shouldn't be acting like a downer, and it's hard, but a lot of the time he feels like he has to put up a front for Kanji. He has to at least  _pretend_ to be doing okay, even though he's back to feeling as though he's drifting through life, the only things breaking it up being Kanji and his friends. He knows he can get through it. It's just a matter of putting on a brave face, like he had before.

"Yeah. It's kinda weird without you, but we manage."

Souji smiles, a tiny one, but one all the same. At least  _that_ pleases him a little bit. A part of him has always been a little bit scared that he wasn't necessary for the dynamic of the group, even though they considered him to be their leader.

"I, uh... I got a part-time job," Kanji says into the ensuing silence.

"I thought you were still helping your mom with the shop?"

"Well,  _yeah_... but I can't let her pay me for that."

Souji hums in consideration. A part-time job... Now that he's back in the city, that seems like a halfway decent pastime—not for money, because his parents have a credit card set aside just for him—but for something to  _do_. Not that he can really think of what he'd be qualified for, or good at, aside from tutoring and the odd jobs he'd gotten up to in Inaba. But is there even demand for that kind of stuff here?

"Where are you working?" he asks, laying down on his bed, pleased with the coolness of the pillow against his cheek.

"The bakery."

"In Okina? The one your mom likes?"

"Yeah. It's pretty fun."

The thought of Kanji, wrapped primly in an apron with flour all dusted down the front is an image good enough to make Souji smile a little bigger, and he presses his face into the pillow as he lets out a soft sigh. "It sounds like it's fun."

"Yeah... so listen. I was thinkin' I could save up money and stuff, and then sometime maybe I can pay for you to come down and visit."

 _Well_. That's certainly not what he'd been expecting to hear. And as much as the thought makes his heart do some kind of joyful gallop, Souji is pretty sure that's just not possible at the moment. He studies a lot, and on weekends, he's got standing roles as a volunteer both at one of the hospitals in town to play board games with the elderly, and at the library to read books to children. It's fulfilling, plus some of the old ladies at the hospital remind him of Hisano, and reading to the children makes it easier to relive his glory days of being 'big bro.'

Still, he can't dash Kanji's hopes like that—not when he sounds so excited at his own suggestion. It's just that he doubts it can work out so easily. It  _never_ does; if it's not his parents telling him that he can't, then it's going to be something else. It's hard to be optimistic in the face of being alone. It's hard to imagine that it could  _end_.

"That would be good," he says, injecting as much happiness as he can manage into his voice. And it's a good measure of it; if only he pretends that it's genuinely something that they're going to do, then it comes easily enough.

"Good," says Kanji, sounding relieved. "So... what are you up to tonight, senpai?"

"I was going to do some homework and take a shower. Exciting stuff."

Kanji laughs on the other end of the phone, and when he speaks, his voice quiets a little, secretive. "Think I can watch?"

"Watch me do homework? I doubt that's going to be very fun for you..."

"Nah... I mean the showering part."

Souji can feel his cheeks get hot, and that fact embarrasses him for a moment before he remembers that Kanji can't see him. Hundreds of miles away and he can still do this to Souji. "You really want to?"

"Heh... you sound flustered, senpai. But you don't gotta do that for me."

Souji puffs out his cheeks ever so slightly. It's unfair how Kanji has  _this_ much of an effect on him. "You wouldn't be making me do anything."

"Yeah? It's just, I think about you when I... y'know. I'm wondering if I'm still imagining you the right way."

Souji exhales softly, nudging his uniform button-up higher, warm palm pushing gently against his stomach for a moment. To tell the truth, he doesn't think that much about these things when he's on his own and without Kanji there. It's hard to really be in the mood for it when he's in an empty house, knowing that any satisfaction will be momentary and may as well turn into disgust later on.

"I think you probably are... but if you want to check, that's alright with me," he whispers back, then pulls the phone away from his ear again. His thumb hovers nervously over the shutter button on the screen. What  _does_ he look like to Kanji? Because it's not as though he's felt particularly self-conscious of himself in relation to this, but seeing himself, he feels suddenly concerned. This is all Kanji can see of him—a still image. What he's  _used_ to seeing is Souji in real life, body twisting underneath him, eager to take more of whatever he's willing to give.

Is this enough? Is Kanji really okay with this? He snaps the picture and sends it before he can think better of it, and waits for Kanji's reaction.

There's a soft intake of breath on the other end several seconds later. "Senpai... you're really handsome, ya know?"

Souji's not sure what to say to that—would a thank you seem too arrogant?—but he's glad that Kanji thinks so, at least. He's still looking at the picture, at his slender, only slightly defined chest and waist, the way it arches down into his hips and how they stand out, bones raised in such a position. To the top, his neck looks almost elegant, long with the muscles pronounced as he'd been poised to take a breath. His mouth had made it into the picture too, lips parted softly. It's not a  _horrible_ sight. Certainly not as bad as he'd assumed.

"I wish I could touch you," Kanji says emphatically, so frustrated that Souji can feel a shiver in his bones. Kanji wants him  _that_ badly?

But he feels that ache too, so painfully deep inside of him that it's the only thing he manages some days. He looks at his bed and can't help remembering one night in Inaba, during the summer when it was far too hot, and they'd curled around each other anyway. He cleans out the bad leftovers from the fridge and can't help thinking that if Kanji had been here, there probably wouldn't have been any at all. He passes high school couples walking home together and wishes he could do that with Kanji again—and it's so  _hard_. He hadn't realized how hard it would feel, even though he'd known, logically, that it would be just as bad as this.

There's a place where they both belong, though. And right now, Souji's is in Tokyo, finishing out his last year of high school without any fuss so that he can  _finally_ go back to the place where he  _wants_ to be. This is what he tells himself with a sense of resignation.

So he can't do this. He's too sad, too lonely to get turned on, to think that he's anywhere but here, in his quiet bedroom in his parents' silent house in a city that's far too loud. Every single component is all wrong.

"I'm sorry," he whispers to Kanji. "I don't know if I..."

"Hey, it's okay," Kanji says back, his voice a shade of sympathetic that Souji knows no one else gets to hear. "Some other time, yeah? Or maybe not."

"Yeah," Souji says. He's relieved that Kanji's always so understanding, but at the same time, now he feels as though he's made things awkward. It's in his own head, he knows, and still his mind is running a mile a minute.

Before he can really think it through, he's speaking again. "I should go. I've got a lot of homework to do tonight."

"Oh... uh. Yeah. Okay. Goodnight, senpai."

Souji hangs up. It's not right of him to keep this to himself, to put Kanji in the dark... If his shadow taught him anything, it was that. But it's hard to explain. Being alone has caused him to regress, to feel insecure and lonely,  _stuck_. He doesn't have his friends here to lift him up when he's down; he has to do it himself, and even though he's assumed that role since he was a child, he finds he's still  _awful_ at it.

For a long time, he just lays in bed on his back, halfway undressed, staring at his ceiling. Not doing his homework, as he'd said. More and more, he's regretting his actions.

At some point, his phone chimes with a text from Kanji, asking if he'd done something wrong and apologizing—and Souji sends back that he didn't do anything, and that there was nothing to apologize for.

It's not his fault. It's all on Souji, because for a little while, he thought he was okay, but it turns out that he's  _not_. Nothing has changed just yet, and that's on him.

He goes to sleep feeling more uneasy than he has in weeks. And it's all because he can't keep pretending that he's not lonely—just thinking about Kanji and all his other friends back in Inaba  _together_ while he's here and all alone has messed him up this badly.

His daily routine becomes more lackluster than ever after that. Going to school is more of a chore, even though he's tried and tried to remind himself that he's doing this so he can move back to Inaba. His extracurricular clubs start feeling exactly like a way to pass the time instead of something that's actually  _fun_. And even if he didn't talk to people much to begin with, he does so even less now.

He hates it, but he doesn't think there's any way to stop it. And he's  _angry_ at himself. He'd been doing so well—he'd been a completely different person in Inaba, and that was a  _good_ thing. For the first time in his life he'd been really and truly happy, surrounded by friends, doing something special and important. And here, who the hell is he? Just some kid. Just some teenager that's too messed up to act normal when he doesn't have his friends around to validate him.

Kanji's been calling less since Souji told him he was starting to study hard for exams. There'd been a pointed 'you should too' somewhere in there, which he felt bad for not even a second after he'd said it. He guesses he deserves to lock himself away from Kanji when he's like this; he doesn't deserve the happiness of his presence if he can't even be good to him.

And it's not right. The person he sees in the mirror isn't  _right_. He can't stand the thought of letting his friends see him like this, but he doesn't know how he's supposed to get better, either. He just knows he can't let this keep going.

What happened to being able to stand on his own? And how does he pull himself out of this mire? Not even a month out from leaving Inaba for the last time, and he's already like this. That's not a good sign—he knows it. He hasn't been sleeping or eating as much as he was before, hasn't been making much attempt to talk to his friends as much as he wants to. And maybe he's punishing himself a little bit for it, which he knows, logically, he shouldn't be doing.

The days start passing again, little interrupting his haze aside from his parents coming home one evening. They're exactly the same as they've ever been, quiet around him, speaking only to question his grades and his extracurriculars and how he's preparing for entrance exams. He gives them the answers they expect, answers that are the  _truth_ regardless of whatever void it is he feels inside. Because all these years, he's learned how to keep up his grades and form a front of being happy, though he knows his emotions aren't their priority.

At least Kanji still texts him every single day, even though Souji can't work up the energy to reply some nights. He worries that Kanji must think he hates him, that he doesn't care anymore, and the idea of that hurts him so deeply that he throws up from anxiety one evening. But he doesn't know how to say it. It was always easier to tell Kanji these difficult truths when they were right next to each other, when Souji could  _see_ that he wasn't being judged for this.

It builds and builds. The longer he leaves it alone, the more difficult it's going to be to address, he knows. But like many things in regards to Kanji, it's bound to meet a breaking point sooner rather than later.

* * *

Souji gets home from school late that Friday—he'd had cleaning duty  _and_ archery had run an hour over, but it meant something to do, so he doesn't mind so much. The lights are all on, which means his parents are somewhere inside of the house; still, they won't be wondering where he'd been. He just kicks his shoes off in the entranceway and puts his slippers on instead, shuffling toward the kitchen where he gets a glass of water and takes a tablet of aspirin for the headache that's been forming all afternoon. Lately he's getting those a lot.

"Souji?" his mother calls from the living room. He tenses up. She only ever wants anything if he's in trouble, and he doesn't want to deal with that right now. He doesn't want anything but to go back to his room and lay down in the darkness.

But he walks into the living room, and his feet falter right as he passes the doorway. Because it's not  _just_ his mother in the living room—it's Kanji, too, sitting on one of the lounge chairs, looking a little bit awkward and out of place.

The surprise must show on his face, and yet Kanji smiles at Souji, something secretive and very 'cat got the canary.'

"Hi," Souji says cautiously. He really can't believe his eyes; he's so shocked it feels like his legs are going to buckle at any second.

"Hey." Kanji lifts his hand, saluting drily in a gesture that feels so familiar, and yet Souji hasn't seen it in over a  _month_ now.

"This young man says he's your friend," Souji's mother says, and he's trained in the nuances of her voice. It's pretty clear she doesn't approve—probably something to do with the half grown-out black and bleach blond hair on Kanji's head, plus the piercings. Souji feels suddenly,  _fiercely_ angry with her, for judging Kanji when he's just about the best person Souji's ever known, when he's seen the worst parts of Souji and never chastised or berated him for them, when he's accepted everything about him even though he doesn't understand it. That's more than she's ever done.

And then, guiltily, Souji forces that anger down. He's never been actually, genuinely hateful toward his parents before—he owes them too much, in the end, to question them.

"He is," Souji says, keeping his voice steadied. Kanji's more, he's  _so_ much more, but Souji doesn't know how she'd react to him saying that kind of thing.

"I see... Don't forget you have homework tonight." With that, she primly turns back to watching the news.

"Let's go to my room," Souji says, shifting uneasily from foot to foot, as if  _he's_ the outsider. Kanji's watching him closely, eyes practically glued to him as he stands, and he really doesn't know whether that's a good or a bad thing. He's still stuck on the fact that Kanji's  _here_. It's astonishing and had been completely outside the realm of possibility before today.

Together they walk back to Souji's room, a careful distance from each other all the while, and Souji takes a moment to consider it as an outsider would. It's tidy—always tidy. There's really not much that makes it special, although he's got photographs tacked up on a bulletin board, most of which are from Inaba. Sometimes looking at them makes him so happy, and sometimes, it's the reverse, but he's glad he keeps them up all the same.

When the door has shut behind them, Souji turns to Kanji, his eyebrows furrowed as he folds his arms over his chest. Defensive. So  _defensive_ , and of what? Does he really think Kanji came all this way to break up with him or something?

"What are you doing here, Kanji?" he asks, keeping his voice level in the hopes that Kanji won't assume he's  _upset_ about it.

"I, uh... I just really, really... haven't been sure of a few things lately," Kanji says.

That somehow feels like a bad sign to Souji, and he's already cringing in on himself. He knows he's been doing badly, and he knows better than to think that the first relationship he'd ever been in would go perfectly, but had he really screwed it up this much? Now even Kanji, who's never been anything but good and perfect, can't take him anymore.

"Oh," he says. He can't look Kanji in the eye—he's focused down toward his chest, desperate not to see the relief on his face as he finally drops Souji for good. This is something he's used to, but he can't take it. Not from Kanji. Not after he's opened up to him this much.

"Hey... what's wrong?"

His gaze snaps up. He hadn't been expecting  _that_ kind of question to come next. "What?"

"I mean... things have seemed really off with you lately. I thought you'd eventually tell me, but you were just talkin' to me less and less. I figured you'd at least tell me if you needed some space, right?"

Souji doesn't know what to say to that. Being  _confronted_ with it, he's absolutely blank.

"Then I was thinkin' about how you always had a hard time opening up before... And I figured it might be easier if I was here, ya know?"

How does he figure Souji out so  _easily_? How does he always know? And how, even in the face of whatever it is that Souji's been putting him through, does he still want to be here?

"But no pressure," Kanji says, then he laughs as he rubs the back of his neck in a gesture of embarrassment. "I really shoulda thought it through a little better before coming here, huh? I didn't even know if you'd be here or not..."

"I'm glad you came," Souji blurts out. Because he  _is_ —just from being close to Kanji, he already feels a little bit weak in the knees, a little bit more comfortable than he had before, especially as relief floods him that Kanji isn't here to break up with him.

Kanji smiles at him, and he never hides behind those smiles. He never holds a single thing back."Yeah?"

"Yes," Souji breathes. He's stepping forward before he can stop himself, wrapping his arms around Kanji's shoulders and leaning up into him until Kanji's arms curl around him in return. And it feels good to be taken in and bundled away by him. Souji sighs, tilting his head up so that he can kiss Kanji once, very lightly.

"I missed you," he says. Just being in his presence makes the words easier to say already. "I really... needed you..."

"I'm here," says Kanji, squeezing him carefully.

It's like he can read Souji's mind. He always knows just what's wrong, and how to fix it—and Souji doesn't know how he does it, or how he can ever repay him, but he knows how lucky he is.

He heaves out a shaky breath, unsure where to begin. Is it even necessary for him to tell Kanji what's been happening? The truth is that it's probably going to make him feel better to do so, even when he thinks he's weak or unlovable—at least Kanji will tell him how much he supports him and cares for him, and that'll feel nice for a little while.

But how does he say it? He's gotten used to not having to divulge the difficult parts of him, or at least he thought he'd cleared them all away... yet there's still this part, the deepest and deadliest beast of them all, the blank unfortunate part of himself that can't be fixed or hidden away no matter how hard he tries.

"Hey... let's sit down for a little while, okay?" Kanji asks. He's already guiding Souji to the bed, sitting him down with a hand at the small of his back, every inch as helpful as he always is.

Their shoulders press together, the silence between them one of expectation—yet the fact that it's unfulfilled at the moment doesn't seem to be too much of a problem. Kanji has always given him time and space where he needs it, but Souji somehow can't help thinking sometimes that it must feel like a burden.

He rests his head against Kanji's shoulder, eyes falling closed. The warmth of him is familiar, the  _smell_ of him is familiar, and Souji missed that feeling of knowing so deeply that he feels almost overwhelmed as he breathes in.

"You okay?"

Souji contemplates an answer for this. Right  _now_ he is, but overall? "I don't know."

"What's been goin' on, senpai?" Kanji asks again.

With a sigh, he presses himself all the tighter into Kanji's space. Most likely, it's an irritating move, and yet he feels as though he can't stop himself from doing it. Kanji's arm pulls him in gently, his lips lightly touching the top of his head.

"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to. I just... you don't mind that I'm here, do you?"

"No," Souji says. "I wanted you here." Or to be back home in Inaba—but as long as he's got Kanji, then it'll be fine... he thinks.

They sit together a little while, the only sounds in the room their breathing and the gentle thump of Souji's heart in his ears. Just to be close to Kanji again has made his body light up in excitement, and it's not out of expectation for anything physical, but because no one has touched him in what feels like  _forever_ , let alone so intimately, in the way that only lovers do: a hand folded around Souji's waist, the whisper of lips against his forehead, the soft, sweet tightness that he causes in Souji's chest.

"Where are you staying tonight?" Souji asks after some time. Even the silence has healed him a little bit, easing away enough of the emptiness that he doesn't feel so much like he's suffocating anymore.

"I, uh... I actually didn't think that far ahead," says Kanji abashedly.

"You can stay here, if you want," Souji says, more quickly than he can really think it through.

"Your parents aren't gonna mind that?"

Souji shrugs his shoulders. He's never had anyone sleep over before; his parents probably wouldn't have approved even if he  _had_ someone close enough to warrant that. But they don't check on him—he's a ghost in the house until they want to ask questions about how school is going and if he's changed his mind to listen to them.

"They won't find out," he says.

That seems to be enough for Kanji. And Souji settles against him more fully as he listens to the house outside of this room, silent and empty as ever but for the occasional sounds of the television and his parents' short, clipped conversation, no doubt discussing work.

"Do you want to lay down?" Kanji asks. His hand is still rubbing Souji's back gently, soothing and lulling him slowly, and he nods dreamily.

They lay down on the bed, legs dangling off the sides. Truthfully, all of this makes Souji feel a little bit weak, knowing that he should be  _stronger_ than this—that it shouldn't be necessary for Kanji to come to him every time he gets a little bit lonely and overwhelmed. But somehow he's glad anyway. He's glad that Kanji doesn't mind it a bit, that his mere presence has such a soothing effect. That he cares enough to  _want_ to.

"I was thinkin' about you a lot," confesses Kanji. "I was scared I'd done something wrong."

"You didn't," Souji says, and he closes his eyes as he pushes his face against Kanji's chest. "I'm just no good at being alone."

It's the first time he's ever said something like that aloud, and it doesn't count that his shadow had basically said it first. The fact of the matter is that he'd contented himself with letting his shadow speak for itself, totally open and exposed, while Souji continued to try and hide himself away. But he's with Kanji—he's safe here. Even Souji's shadow hadn't scared him away, so maybe he's really in it for the long haul.

"Everybody misses you, ya know. It's just... different now. Not bad, but I guess we all know we're missing you."

"I miss everybody too. A lot."

Kanji's fingertips brush Souji's neck, his hair shifting and tickling him. "I think maybe we didn't realize how you needed us as bad as we needed you."

Awkwardly, Souji laughs and nods. It's the truth, isn't it? He needs them. Being around them makes him whole, makes him feel  _wanted_ , and he hasn't felt like that maybe  _ever_. Even with his parents, he feels like a burden. But they don't make him feel like that. They make him feel important and strong—they lift him up, and isn't that what everyone needs?

"I want to come back," Souji confesses. "I'm trying really hard to make it through this year so that I can."

"Yeah. We'll be waiting for you senpai, you know that, right?"

Souji nods. It's too warm being in Kanji's arms, but he doesn't care right now.

For a long time, they lay like that. Long enough for the both of them to fall asleep in their clothes, over the covers, and Souji only awakens when he's been shivering from the air conditioning coming on. Like a particularly tired zombie, he gets up and turns the lights off. And somehow he manages the strength to change into a pair of lounge pants and a long-sleeved t-shirt, the same thing he tended to wear to sleep when he was living with Dojima. Then very carefully, very  _gently_ , he rolls Kanji to the side so that he can pull the sheets down and crawl in beside him to settle down, safe and secure in the darkness.

* * *

It's lucky that the next day is a day off, because Souji sleeps in well past his alarm, enfolded by Kanji so perfectly that the rest of the world just stops mattering for a few hours longer than usual. Of course, the moment his eyes open is the moment he starts panicking, because the more he sleeps, the less time they have to spend together, but then he's gripped tighter by gentle arms, and he sighs, resigning himself. It's not so bad to just lay here with him, is it?

"Y'awake, senpai?"

"Yeah..."

"Mm..." Kanji grumbles, pushing his face into the crook of Souji's neck. They're all tangled up and Souji is sweating a little bit, his shirt ridden up over his stomach, edge of his pants pushed down a little, and Kanji's jeans are rubbing the sensitive skin of his waist in quite an unappealing fashion, but it's  _good_. It's certainly the best way he's woken up in what feels like far too long.

"We should go to the store and get stuff for breakfast," he says boldly. His parents are usually gone during the day, at meetings or visiting with colleagues—they'll have the whole house to themselves, and Souji intends to take advantage of it. Already his mind is boiling over with ideas, all the things they could do—all the places Souji could take Kanji so that they might seem a little brighter when he's gone... Or maybe, they'd be worse.

But that's not forefront in his mind right now. There's so many possibilities, so much optimism overflowing in him, because today seems like a good day, and Kanji is definitely his ideal person to spend it with.

"Yeah. I should take a shower first, though..."

"Did you bring clothes?"

"Yup. I packed a bag," Kanji says, gesturing to one Souji hadn't noticed the night before, nor seen Kanji bring into the room.

Curious, he turns his head to look down at him, and Kanji grins sheepishly.

"Your parents showed me your room. Promise I didn't snoop... that much."

Souji laughs softly. It's not like Kanji would have been able to find anything incriminating in here; there's not a lot of personality to it, aside from the corkboard with pictures of him and his friends. There's even a few of just he and Kanji together, and those are the ones closest to the front, because they're the ones that make him smile the widest.

Fanned out toward the left is a picture of them standing near the water on that school camping trip, before they'd even had feelings for each other (or at least before Souji had; he's really not sure where Kanji stands on that); in the middle, a night when they'd eaten at Aiya, pressed far too close considering how wide the frame of the camera is, both of them grinning brightly; and finally, on the far right from just a few months ago, the summer they'd spent at the beach, sitting around a bonfire together.

They're something Souji treasures. He wonders if Kanji knows that. He wonders if he'd walked in and marveled, if he'd leaned in close to scrutinize the way Souji looked at him, if he'd realized just what that meant.

After another quarter of an hour laying in bed, they finally manage to extract themselves from the warmth of the sheets, tottering toward the bathroom attached to Souji's room. Much in the same way as they always have before, they shower without any particularly lingering touches, but Kanji does help wash Souji's back, and Souji takes care of Kanji's hair for him. He never really thought he'd reach this point, that someone would touch him so simply and yet it would mean so much to him, and he's smiling as they get out and towel off. It's a good day.

In the bedroom, they set to dressing, and Souji's mind is distant as he buttons his shirt, thinking of everything they could do. He hasn't felt this good in  _months_ ; it's weird that being close to Kanji is enough to cause this, but he's not complaining at all. If anything, he's glad, the preparations of the day seeming less like a chore with him—although he  _does_ have to go back and rebutton that shirt after messing them all up in his distraction.

Sure enough, the rest of the house is empty of his parents when they emerge from the bedroom. They don't leave notes or tell Souji where they're going, and he doesn't really question it. He can tell Kanji is curious about this arrangement, but he's not too pleased at the thought of delving into that when he's feeling this good, so he doesn't. It can wait. Maybe it won't ever have to be brought up at all.

They leave, locking up behind themselves, and then they're out in the street, the sun bright and the air shot through with a pleasant breeze. The city always feels different, but on a day like this, it reminds him a lot of Inaba, and his hand reaches for Kanji's without him even thinking it through. Still, Kanji's fingers wrap around his, and they set off down the street together.

As they walk, there's people rushing around them, maybe going to part-time jobs or cram school, the older generation out walking their pets, couples arm-in-arm strolling the streets just like them, and Souji feels nice. It's good to be part of this, to feel  _normal_. They step inside the supermarket and there's a small smile on Souji's face as he begins to head toward the produce section, only Kanji catches his arm.

"Hey, uh..." He's  _blushing_ for some odd reason. "What if... what if I cooked for you?"

"Like what?"

"Well... y'know, workin' in the bakery and all... they teach you stuff." He shifts from foot to foot, seemingly embarrassed about this offering.

"I'd like that," Souji says earnestly.

"Yeah... okay. Good."

He follows Kanji around as he searches out ingredients, a quick and methodical serpentine path through the store which Souji's honestly a little bit surprised at. He'd thought they would be here a lot longer, but before half an hour has passed, they've gotten it all paid for and are on their way again, hands touching despite the bags hanging off their wrists, carefully curling around each other.

Of course, the second they get outside is the moment the sky opens up and rain starts pouring down, and Souji goes to turn back, wondering if they might be able to buy an umbrella inside—but Kanji's tugging him along, running in absolutely the wrong direction, so even though Souji's laughing, he has to stop him.

They end up taking the quick way home, sprinting as fast as possible, though they're still soaked to the bone by the time they get inside the house, dripping water in the entranceway. Souji makes Kanji wait there, even though he keeps stepping closer, both of them laughing and shivering a little.

When he returns with towels, Kanji's taken his shirt off, trying to wring it out with his top half poked out of the front door. It's such a strange sight, but he throws a towel at Kanji's back and makes him jump, and that just makes him laugh a little bit harder.

It makes him realize, maybe they should be doing less menial things, making  _more_ of their time together, because he doesn't even know how much of it he has with Kanji. It's fun, but all the same...

"Do you have to go back tonight?" he asks tentatively.

"I should... I don't want to, though," says Kanji, scrubbing at his hair with the towel. "Hey, it's what people would expect from me, right? Skipping class?"

It's not that Souji  _thinks_ he should do that, just because it's what people expect... but he's feeling a little greedy right now. One more day can't hurt, can it?

"You  _could_..."

"Yeah. But I gotta stay in class," Kanji says ruefully, hanging his head. "Gotta graduate on time, right? So I can be with you."

That causes a pleased flush to work its way up Souji's body, and he nods in agreement. One day to sacrifice now should be nothing when he considers the long-run.

"What about your mom?" he asks as he steps out of his pants, folding them over his arm to take back to the laundry room. "She's probably worried about you by now."

Kanji rubs the back of his neck, laughing quietly. "She was the one that told me to come."

Souji smiles. Even now, Kanji's mother feels special to him, some sweet mystery that he thinks of often. Mostly it's a longing when he exists from day to day dealing with his own parents ignoring him, but that's really besides the point.

"I'm glad she did," he confesses, bold with the quiet that he doesn't quite hate right now and the close quarters. He's coveting this—it means that he and Kanji have all the privacy in the world, and it's not just their half-undressed state that he needs that for.

"I am too. I was really worrying about you."

"I'm sorry."

Kanji says nothing; he just reaches out to cup Souji's cheek, thumb tracing over his damp lips, and then it drops away again. It leaves Souji surprisingly flustered, confused that Kanji's been able to sweep him off his feet all this time, but he attempts to brush it off by leading the way back into the bedroom.

Soon they're dry and changed (Kanji borrowing a shirt that's just a size or two too small from Souji) and then back in the kitchen, sorting through the bags. Souji has to admit, he's curious what breakfast is going to be, and pretty excited too. No one's ever really  _cooked_ for him before; it's a new experience, and odd to be on the receiving end of when he's always been the one cooking for everyone else.

And there's something admittedly attractive about watching Kanji stand at the island, methodically measuring out cups of flour and sugar and mixing things (and Souji definitely won't complain about what working in a bakery has done for the muscles of his arms, nor the way his shirt strains around them). It's not long before he's spooning the finished batter into muffin tins that probably haven't  _ever_ been used, then slipping them into the oven.

"Impressive," Souji says, once Kanji has leaned back against the counter, wiping his brow and the slight hint of sweat there.

"You think so? I've been working pretty hard... It's fun there, though. And it's cool having my own money... don't gotta bum off ma so often."

"I'm a little bit jealous." After all, Souji's parents generally tell him to focus on his studies—if there's one area they don't seem to begrudge him, it's in giving him money, but he often feels too guilty to ask for it even still. A real job sounds so interesting since Kanji had brought it up; he'd had a lot of fun with the ones he'd taken in Inaba, but the thought of working in a bakery is nice... He won't lie and say his mind didn't skip over to think what it would be like to work in one with Kanji, which is the part his mind  _really_ wants to dwell on.

"I was thinkin', if I got good enough, I could make a birthday cake for you next year... but I guess that's pretty far away at this point."

Souji smiles. The sentiment is one that warms him entirely, softening the core of him into some gooey mess. His parents have very rarely been around for his birthday, and it falls in the spring months, thus he hadn't been able to spend it with his friends or with the Dojimas last year  _or_ this year. The thought of next year, as nebulous as it seems at the moment, is something to look forward to.

"I'd like that," he says.

"Yeah... I'd make you a real cute one. With strawberries and decorations and stuff."

The grin is tugging at his cheeks, and he can feel it keenly now, but he's not really ashamed. Kanji's just grinning back at him, pleased that he so clearly likes the idea.

With time, the kitchen is filled with the sweet scent of something; Souji finds himself inhaling deeply, a soft sigh escaping him on the exhale, and he tilts his head to the side. Kanji cares enough about him to do this, and the feeling of that is almost as dizzying as the scent itself. He doesn't know how he can always be questioning this; it's so clear that Kanji likes being with him. Maybe it's just the distance.

When the timer goes off, Kanji is quick to extract the pans from the oven, and after a minute or two there's a soft, warm chocolate muffin on a plate in front of Souji, a fork to the side. It's surprisingly pretty: artfully cracked on the surface, sugar crystallized beautifully in the crevices, tiny chocolate chips scattered throughout.

"Go on... try it," Kanji says, his nervous tell of scratching his neck presenting itself again.

Souji picks up the fork and cuts off a small portion, cupping his hand under it as he lifts it to his mouth to catch any crumbs that drop off. And as he places it on his tongue, it seems to melt, sweet sugary flakes breaking upon the warmth of his mouth, then followed with bittersweet chocolate that gives it just enough of a split from the sugar. He sighs, getting another chunk before he can really help himself.

"You like it?" asks Kanji after a few seconds, and Souji nods.

"It's delicious," he murmurs, wiping his mouth with a napkin.

"Well just... don't be too impressed. I'm not a natural like you, senpai."

Laughing, Souji lifts his shoulders in a shrug. "Maybe not. But practice has made you perfect, Kanji."

"Yeah? Thanks."

"Come on. Sit down and eat with me," says Souji, patting the barstool beside himself.

After a moment, Kanji does, his own muffin wrapped in a napkin, and he chomps it down without much finesse. Still, it's cute, and when he's swallowed the whole thing (before Souji has even finished his), Souji reaches over and thumbs a few crumbs away.

"You had some leftover."

"I was keeping it for later," Kanji says, but he seems embarrassed.

Souji sighs, amused. He finishes up eating, sipping the cup of tea he'd made earlier to combat the lingering chill of the rain, and washes the dishes before piling up the leftovers on a plate and setting it aside.

"Hey... your parents can have some if they want them," says Kanji.

Lips pursed, Souji assesses them. He wants them all to himself, truthfully—not only would his parents likely not realize how special these are, but Souji wants something to savor, some part of Kanji that'll stick around for him once he's gone again.

"If they can get to them before I do," he eventually says, managing to sound remarkably neutral for how serious he actually is.

They make their way back to the bedroom, because the rest of the house doesn't feel like it's familiar enough for Souji to want to be there. Earlier, he'd thought it would be fun to go out with Kanji, to show him all the sights here, but in the end, it really feels best to just lay against him in bed, their foreheads pressed together, so close in each other's space that it should feel awkward or uncomfortable—and yet it's exactly what Souji needs.

And the way Kanji's hand rests against his hip, thumb rubbing the skin just above the waistband of his pants, is slowly turning him on—a lazy arousal that has him shifting, but not insistently. He can take it for a little while longer, intent on listening to Kanji recounting all the things that have happened in Inaba lately.

"Rise stopped by on a break from her tour... she said you came and saw her show when she was here."

"Yeah."

Kanji laughs, his fingers drifting higher, creeping under his shirt as he rubs the sensitive skin of Souji's waist. "I think she's still mad at me for stealing you from her."

Souji shrugs as well as he can when he's laying on his side in bed. "I don't think you have to worry about that. She's happy for us, even if she teases you."

"Yeah? Why's it only gotta be  _me_..."

"Maybe because you're so fun to tease," Souji replies, hooking his right leg over Kanji's hips and swinging up suddenly, pushing Kanji down onto his back so that he can sit on his hips. He's half-hard under Souji's ass; not really a surprise there.

"I-I'm pretty sure you've got a different teasing in mind than she does, senpai..."

Souji grins at him sharply, saying nothing as he circles his hips down slowly, delighting in the feeling of Kanji straining up, his cock getting harder in his pants. This is a feeling Souji hasn't had in a  _long_ time now, and it sends a spark of excitement through his body to know that he's able to do this, that Kanji is here, that he's  _feeling_ this. His hands grip Souji's hips, and he feels high on that touch.

"Is this okay, Kanji...?"

Kanji practically splutters in how quickly he tries to respond to that, head nodding even as he speaks. "Yeah, yes. Absolutely."

With a small laugh of relief, Souji grinds down a little harder, which makes Kanji toss his head back into the pillows, groaning. He's slightly red in the face, his fingers clinging tight to Souji's hips, and as Souji moves, his lips part and he presses up a little harder against his ass.

"Do you want more?" Souji wonders.

Again, Kanji nods. Souji slides down, his fingers slipping against the buttons of Kanji's jeans in their nervous excitement, but soon he's got them pulled down, his cock freed, and he's already leaning in to press his tongue against the tip.

Kanji's whole body seems to jolt upon contact. It's not a surprise that he's this sensitive, Souji guesses; it's been a little while since they've actually gotten to be together. But the thought that he wants it so much is enough to fluff Souji's ego, so he lifts his eyes to meet Kanji's as he pushes his lips down, accepting more and more of his cock. And because he hasn't done this in a little while, he's not nearly as graceful about it as he might have been a few months ago, but Kanji's hands clench in the sheets all the same, so he counts that as a win.

"Senpai..." he sighs far above.

Souji pulls back an increment, his tongue flicking lightly against the head before withdrawing completely. "Call me by my name, Kanji. Or I'll stop."

It's definitely habit—every time Souji asks him to use his name, Kanji sounds nervous at first, and then slips back into calling him 'senpai' within a few hours. Of course, it's endearing, but  _nothing_ compared to how it feels to have Kanji calling him by his real name. He likes that much better.

Right now, Kanji's looking impatient and flustered, but he croaks out a hoarse, "Souji."

"What do you want me to do?" Souji asks.

"Just... keep goin'," he requests, practically squirming.

Souji dips his head down, enthusiastically applying himself to the task of sucking Kanji off. The feeling of having him squirming underneath is something powerful, and Souji knows what he wants—knows Kanji has no problem at all  _giving_ it to him—but there's still a heady rush from doing this. And he keeps sucking, tongue rubbing over the warm, sensitive flesh of Kanji's cock, ignoring the slight discomfort of it pushing into his throat, until Kanji pushes at his shoulder.

"Hey... can I..."

When he doesn't continue, Souji raises an eyebrow. Kanji just huffs and looks to the side. "I wanna be inside you."

That manages to shatter some restraint Souji's managed until this point, and he hurriedly gets out of his own jeans and underwear, shirt flung off into some obscure corner while he's at it. Then he's back on Kanji's hips, leaning over to search through one of the bedside table drawers for lube, which is passed off to Kanji once he's done.

He could do the prep himself, but he's missed the feeling of Kanji's fingers working him open, slow and careful, and he sighs contentedly as one pushes in, slightly cold with lube.

"Does that feel okay, sen—Souji?"

"Yes," Souji murmurs, rocking back slowly. He's impatient for more, and yet he knows he's going to have to wait it out. There's no use in trying to hurry and making this worse than it is, and they've only got today for this. If he messed it up, he doubts he could forgive himself any time soon.

So as slowly as Kanji takes it, and as frustrated as Souji feels with how much time they're wasting, he's soon open enough to take it. With a little bit more lube, he's slowly sinking down on Kanji's cock, all the muscles in his stomach and thighs taut with effort.

It seems to be taking Kanji as much effort to keep calm. His face is drawn as Souji settles deeper and deeper, still going slow and careful even though the small taste he's getting of this is enough to make him desperate already.

Eventually, he has to give in, throwing caution to the wind and settling himself in Kanji's lap with a gasp, eyes half-lidded, stomach rising and falling heavily. This is the perfect feeling, the one he hasn't felt in far too long, the simple comfort of having Kanji inside of him and looking completely in awe underneath him.

"Should I move...?" Souji asks. He's teasing a little bit—doubts Kanji could even speak a single word with how overwhelmed he seems.

And true enough, he can only nod, his hands squeezing on Souji's hips as he tries to lift him up.

Readily, Souji starts moving. At first, he's a little stiff, his hips unaccustomed to the habit of guiding himself down, and in truth, all he's really done without Kanji is a few nights of jerking off when he was thinking of him too much—maybe a couple fingers working inside himself if he was  _really_ turned on—but for the most part, he's been bereft. And it feels as incredible as it does strange and new to be riding him again.

At the same time, he's a little bit embarrassed, though. All this time without doing anything for himself has got him dangerously close to coming already, and the intimacy, the sheer  _closeness_ of this isn't helping at all. He's barely gone for more than a minute before he feels himself right on the edge, panicking and trying so hard to stop himself, but he  _can't_. He shudders, body going stiff as he comes with a few desperate strokes of his fingers over his cock, spilling on Kanji's stomach with a moan.

Speaking of whom, he's groaning and clutching Souji's hips, bucking up into him so hard that Souji doesn't know if he can take the stimulation much longer. Still, after a painful minute of trying to gain control, he finally manages to settle, wide-eyed as he stares up at Souji.

"Uh... se—Souji..."

"Don't say anything," he warns. It seems pretty embarrassing; they'd barely done anything, and he'd gone off that quickly; it's entirely shameful.

"H-hey... it was pretty cute," Kanji says, which doesn't help in the  _least_. He'd been trying so hard to give off this cool facade, like he'd been managing everything in Kanji's absence. But like everything else, he just can't keep up that wall in front of Kanji. It's impossible.

He shudders, not wanting to stop, not wanting this closeness to go away. He needs the physicality of Kanji, because that's what he's going to be losing when he goes back to Inaba without Souji.

Hands careful and reverent on Souji as always, Kanji rolls him over onto his back, settling him before guiding his thighs apart and pushing inside of him again. The sensation of it is a little bit overwhelming, but it's good—and Souji sighs, lying back amongst the pillows as Kanji starts to thrust into him. He's a little more hurried, apparently striving to meet his own peak, but just as reluctant in the long-term as Souji is to really fall over the edge.

In the end, Souji manages to come one more time, touching himself slowly as Kanji's thrusts ease into something more intimate, and the tightness of Souji's body leads him to finally come inside of him with a stuttered moan, body tense, brows drawn together, lips parted—and then all the agony washes away and he slumps against Souji's chest.

They're silent for a long while. It surprises Souji that it's never awkward, but that's just how it is: this is another kind of connection, Souji's hand carding through the strands of Kanji's hair, Kanji's breath warm even against his sweaty skin. He'd be happy to spend an entire day this way (but not this one).

Eventually, Kanji speaks up. "Senpai... we gotta talk, y'know. We're almost out of time."

And Souji knows that all of this needs to be cleared up, but at the same time, he dreads it. He dreads  _anything_ that reveals him too much, that might finally make Kanji decide he's not worth it.

"Yes." Already, his answers are getting shorter and shorter, a defense mechanism, albeit a very avoidant one.

"You know you can talk to me about anything, right? Even if you think it's weird or... or whatever. I wanna listen to you."

Souji softens a little, but his gaze averts from Kanji's face. How can he talk to him when it's so  _hard_? When he can barely put these things into words for himself? He's been forcing everything down for an eternity, convincing himself that no one cared for him so long that he doesn't even know where to begin anymore. By this age, don't most people already  _know_ how to say what's bothering them? And here he is, still thinking he has to keep it down, or else people will stop liking him.

"I know," he says.

"So, uh... I want to do it however it makes you comfortable, but... but we gotta talk. When there's something bothering you, we gotta talk."

Souji nods. "I know," he says again. "I'm sorry."

"Hey, no. It's not something you gotta apologize for. You don't need to apologize for any of this." Kanji scoots up, moving to lay side-by-side with Souji instead, and he reaches out to tuck a thick chunk of silver hair behind his ear.

Souji can't help but think he must look silly like this, but for Kanji's sake, he tolerates it.

"It's just, I really want this to work out. I've never liked someone as much as I like you, senpai. I don't want to lose you."

"You won't," Souji promises.

"I don't want to lose you to  _anything_ , not if I can help it. So even if you think it's hard to think about something, as long as it's something on your mind that's distracting you, I want you to know I'll listen as long as it takes. And we'll figure it out together, right?"

"Right," Souji says. He can't help but notice Kanji is doing so much of the talking right now, but he appreciates it—having only to agree with what's said, so long as he does—and he  _does_.

"So, uh... y'think you can tell me what's been going on? So we can figure it out before I have to leave?"

He takes in a soft, uneven breath, glancing instinctively away from Kanji, as if it'd make the brunt of his words easier to bear. But in the end, it doesn't work like that. Souji can pretend all he wants that Kanji won't hear this, but he  _will_. He'll know. And maybe it's time that he let somebody close enough,  _truly_ close enough, to know those bad parts intimately.

"I told you before, that I'm not... good... at being alone," he starts. The words aren't flowing—they have to be forced free, and he trips over them. "I mean. Before I came to Inaba, I felt like I was disconnected from everything. There was nothing that made me  _me_. I just existed. And when I'm alone, that's what it feels like sometimes."

Kanji stays quiet, his hand resting on Souji's side, slowly stroking the bare skin of his waist.

"Sometimes it's easier, because I know I have friends, but sometimes it's harder. Because you guys are a long way away. And before now, I wasn't used to being around people, so I could be alone. That was normal to me... and now, it's not. I didn't know how hard the distance would be."

"Yeah. But we still care about you no matter what. No matter how far away you are. You know that, don't you?"

Logically? Of  _course_ he does. But hypothetically? It's a struggle to imagine that they even think about him as much as he thinks about him.

"I think so," Souji says, though his voice wavers, unsure.

Kanji's brows furrow, his expression almost pained as he rubs his hand up and down Souji's side. "You're not a burden, senpai. I think you feel like you are sometimes, but you're not. All of us wanna be around you— _I_ wanna be around you. Even when you think you have to keep it inside, you don't."

No one's ever said anything like that to Souji before. And while it doesn't wipe away those worries completely, it opens up something inside of his chest, makes him feel light and airy, breathing full and deep, lively.

"Thank you," is all he can really say. It's not nearly enough; he knows that, but he fully intends to make up for it in the coming months.

* * *

The day passes entirely too quickly, but they spend it doing all the things they haven't been able to during their separation—laying in bed curled close together as the rain falls outside, just  _talking_  about all the mundane things that have been happening in their lives, and Souji finds that as he speaks, it gets easier and easier.

Hours are filled this way, and before he knows it, they're walking toward the station together under an umbrella. Each step is filled with a kind of dread, because the knowledge that Kanji will be gone in another hour is inescapable. Still, they have one last dinner at a nearby cafe, sandwiches and a tiny prim cake split between the two of them, which Kanji savors in an entirely new kind of way... consideration, perhaps?

When they've finished and get up to leave, the dull ache inside of Souji grows, making itself known with each second: the knowledge that he's only gotten this one day, and now it's over. But it's better than nothing. That's what he tries to tell himself as they walk into the station.

"Hey. So, remember what I said a little while back, about visiting? What do you think about me coming up here sometimes? Or I could pay for you to come to Inaba. Everyone would like that," Kanji says once they've taken a seat on a bench to wait for the train.

"That'd be nice." For once, Souji doesn't doubt whether it'll really happen or not—he wants it, and Kanji wants it, so what's to get in their way? Besides, this one day has made him too eager for another one.

"Yeah?" Kanji grins, squeezing his arm around Souji's shoulder, pulling him closer.

"Yeah."

"Good." There's another lull before he speaks again. "And you're really gonna talk to me from now on, right?"

"I promise," says Souji. He leans against Kanji's shoulder, wanting to savor this, but then the train pulls into the station.

Reluctantly, they stand, Souji popping his umbrella open, though it gets tossed aside by the ferocity of Kanji's sudden hug. He wraps his arms around Kanji's neck in return, hugging as tightly as he can, for as long as he can, squeezing harder than he probably should. This is too difficult; he doesn't want to let go, but he knows he has to. It's just as bad as it had been when he'd left Inaba.

"You'd better hurry," he whispers against Kanji's neck.

"One more second," he murmurs back.

The announcement plays over the speakers after another minute, a warning, and Souji tries to pull away, but Kanji won't allow it. A part of him is happy about that.

"One more."

"You'll miss your train, Kanji." Not that Souji would mind—not at  _all_.

Kanji pulls back with a sigh of frustration, and he kisses Souji. It's only a small, chaste one, their lips barely just brushing together, so fleeting that he doesn't get a chance to memorize the feeling. But it'll tide Souji over. And then Kanji's rushing to get on the train, his bag bouncing against his back. For a moment, Souji almost wants to chase him, get on the train to Inaba and not think about the consequences. He knows better, though, because even if this wasn't enough, even if it  _never_ is, it always leaves him wanting more.

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr!](http://bunansa.tumblr.com)


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